Benders
by Jaya Avendel
Summary: Thranduil leaves home for freedom in the world outside his home, Greenwood the Great. He wants adventure but little does he know how much adventure he will get. He uncovers a mysterious and dark secret from his past. From that moment onward, his life changes forever!
1. Freedom

"I am proud of you, Thranduil," Oropher said.

Thranduil hung his head. "Thank you, ada."

"You should be proud, ion-nin," Oropher scolded.

"Why? Because of this?" Thranduil shook his head, causing his golden hair to ripple.

Oropher pinched Thranduil. "Ion-nin, hold still! I cannot even hope to comb your hair if you keep moving."

Tears came into Thranduil's eyes. "I grew this hair for you, ada. My whole life I have been doing things for you and naneth. I have perfected my skills with the blade, I have memorized every book in our vast libraries, I have refined my intellect, fought many battles . . . all for you and naneth."

"Indeed. And no father could be prouder then I am," Oropher replied.

Thranduil sighed. His hair was golden and heavy. It was many yards long, thick and strong. It had taken years to grow with the use of herbs and daily potions. It had been Oropher's dream to see his son with such long hair. And Thranduil had wanted to please his father. Oropher was braiding his hair now. The braid was thick and heavy.

"I am proud of you," Oropher said again.

"You are only proud of me when I fulfill your dreams," Thranduil said bitterly. "I have to earn your love. Your love has to be paid for with my sweat and blood. Until I accomplish your latest task, you look upon me with displeasure! I am sick of working for your love! A father's love should be unconditional. I am worn from working to please you and _so_ tired. I have lived my life for you. I have done nothing for myself. I _cannot_ live like this any longer. I yearn for your love and I will do anything for it. I cannot live with you and live my own life at the same time for your demands are endless and I am powerless to disobey, knowing you will give me your love once the task stands completed. That is why I am leaving."

Oropher tied Thranduil's braid with unnecessary force and handed the heavy coil to Thranduil. "Do not be a fool, ion-nin. Where will you go?"

"Wherever my feet chose to take me. I am going to live my life now! Everything I do will be for me, not for you. I am done making you proud if that pride must cost me my happiness. I love you and it pains me to have to leave you and nana. But I must if I want to be happy. You are too demanding, ada, and I am too weak to refuse your requests. Goodbye." Tears streamed down Thranduil's cheeks but he could not stop now. He had to leave. He forced himself to stride out of the room. In the doorway, Oropher's words stopped him.

"The moose of Greenwood the Great are impossible to ride, Thranduil."

It was another one of Oropher's arduous tasks. Thranduil was not going to put his sweat and blood into it. He walked away from his father. In his chambers, he unclenched his hands. What was done was done. He was leaving. Yes, he was leaving to live his own life! He was free!

A surge of joy helped lessen the pain he felt at having to leave his parents and his home. He packed a few changes of clothes, and his valuable jewelry in case he needed it for money. He packed his comb and dress robes and tossed the bags onto his bed along with the sack of lembas bread he had already taken from the kitchens. Locking his room door, he donned his armor. The armor was silver, engraved with leaves and vines. It melded with his body, having been custom made. He pinned on a heavy black cloak. He slid his sword and dagger into his belt. He coiled his heavy braid over his arm and hung it on the harness on his back. Grabbing his luggage, he leapt out of his bedroom window onto the rooftops below. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, he left the palace behind. He jogged into the trees, heading for the feeding grounds of the moose. He knew he father would send elves after him to bring him back and he knew he had to be far away by the time that happened. In order to outrun the mounted elves, he would need something faster then a horse.

The wood was dark. The trees were shadows. The wind blew cool. Thranduil was light and nimble as he skipped over creeks and vaulted mossy tree trunks. He could run for hours without tiring for it had been Oropher's wish that he be the fastest runner in Greenwood the Great. And so he was.

When Thranduil reached moose territory, he went in search of a moose. He had barely taken a few steps into the grassy glade when the thunder of hooves filled the air. Thranduil spun around and froze in his tracks. A whole herd of moose charged toward him, kicking up earth with their hooves. They soared over a ditch and landed around Thranduil, horns lowered to spear him.

"I come in peace!" Thranduil declared, holding up his hands. "All I desire is a mount to ride away from here so that I may be as free as you."

The moose snorted and pounded their hooves on the ground. Thranduil closed his eyes. He could feel the tremors in the ground, making a kind of pattern of stamps and snorts. He knew of a code that used such a method of communication. Quickly, he put the message conveyed in the stamps and snorts together.

 _"_ _For whom do you wish to ride forth from this wood?"_

"No one but myself," Thranduil answered. "I am done doing things for my father."

 _"_ _How do we know you are worthy enough to ride us?"_

A wild surge of freedom filled Thranduil. "By this!" He lunged forward, grabbing the biggest moose by the horns. The moose stepped back and flung him back. Thranduil hung on desperately, his fingers slipping on the smooth bone. The animal bucked beneath him, twisting and heaving. Thranduil held on tightly, settling himself on the moose. The animal bucked one more time before holding still. The rest of the moose turned quietly and walked away. Thranduil relaxed. He had passed the test. The moose bucked and he went flying, landing hard on his back. The moose walked over to Thranduil and looked into his dazed eyes with a glint of mischief in them. His eyes seemed to say; _"Now we are even!"_ Thranduil stumbled to his feet and mounted the animal. The cool wind played with a few stray wisps of his hair as he rode. By the time dawn came, he was riding out of Greenwood the Great into the grassy plains. He did not need a map; every corner of Middle Earth existed in his head. He decided to ride for Rohan. In human territory, he was less likely to be recognized. And the last thing he wanted was his father knowing exactly where he was.

The air was still cool. The sun was rising. Thranduil rode away from home, breathing in the fresh taste of freedom. He knew there would be danger on his new path. There would be danger and difficulty and pain. But there would also be fun and laughter and plenty of challenges. Thranduil looked forward to it all with eagerness. His blue eyes glowed. His heart soared on the wings of a passing eagle. He did not think of his parents or of servitude. He thought only of the happiness that waited ahead of him.

That night Thranduil slept by a warm fire under the open sky. The stars surrounded him, unblocked by any ceiling or tree. Fireflies winked in the tall grass. Thranduil was warm and happy and satisfied. His moose was grazing in the grass. Thranduil watched him lie down with a thump.

"How would you like to be named Flyfire?" he asked, watching the fireflies gather on the moose's horns in a thick mass.

The moose nodded and the fireflies scattered. And so Flyfire was born. Thranduil fell asleep watching the fire dancing and seeing the reflection of the flames in Flyfire's brown eyes.

* * *

"Where is Thranduil?" Sivagami asked, coming to stand by Oropher.

"He has gone to tame the moose of Greenwood the Great," Oropher said with satisfaction. "He had some foolish notion about running away. But I convinced him otherwise and gave him a task to do."

Sivagami was silent for a while. "But he only just got back from battling servants of Sauron! Perhaps you should have given him a break?"

"He will come back, meleth nin," Oropher said tenderly. "As if he would leave us and this beautiful forest for the harsh, crude world outside."

"And when he does come back it will be on a moose?" Sivagami laughed.

"You know our ion. He can do anything," Oropher insisted.

"You push him too hard," Sivagami said. She was quiet again.

"Is something bothering you?"

"No," Sivagami said. She took Oropher's hand. Looking into his eyes with a sparkle in hers, she said, "I am pregnant!"

* * *

 **I would love to hear your thoughts and feelings on this story. I want no rot having to do with anything else. Your feedback is appreciated.  
**


	2. Rivendell

Thranduil was running. His arms and legs moved in harmony. He moved like an arrow from a bow, swift and sure. Flyfire galloped ahead of him. Thranduil could ride but he wanted to run. He could run forever if he wanted to; nothing could stop him. His blood raced through his veins, his heart hammered in his chest, and air burned in his lungs. He was near Rivendell, having decided to stop in for a short visit.

Suddenly an arrow whizzed past his ear. Thranduil's eyes picked out the orcs hiding in the tall grass. He did not stop to think; he unsheathed his sword and charged at the orcs, smoothly ducking the black arrows. He reached the orcs, slashing off a head as he spun. He blocked weapons with lightning fast movements, executing orc after orc. He was not enjoying the killing. He was enjoying the feeling of aliveness that burned in his body. He was enjoying the danger and the knowledge that he could die any minute. Or maybe not. He killed the last orc. Nature could bury the corpses.

Thranduil heard horse's hooves and turned around. A dozen of the Noldor elves from Rivendell rode up. Thranduil sheathed his sword and said smugly, "Sorry; you are to late. You missed the show."

The elves regarded him with amusement.

"Why, if it is not Prince Thranduil Oropherion. What are you doing so far from home?"

"I have come to see Lord Elrond and seek his advice on a small matter," Thranduil said.

"These are troubled time. Lord Elrond does not have time to help you."

Thranduil waved his hand at the dead orcs. "Perhaps that would have been so had I not already paid for his services. I have killed these foul creatures and if Lord Elrond will not take it into his heart to thank me personally, I would doubt his gratitude."

The elves grumbled among each other. In the end, they consented to take Thranduil to see Lord Elrond.

Lord Elrond was removing a message from the harness on the back of a messenger hawk. He read it, laid it aside, and turned to Thranduil.

"I need a messenger hawk," Thranduil said. "And I know you have some of the best."

"Indeed," said Elrond. "To what purpose do you intent to use the messenger hawk?"

"I am going to be traveling far and wide," Thranduil said with an easy shrug. "Means of communication are essential. I am quite willing to _pay_ you for the bird." His voice held distaste at the thought of selling animals.

Elrond considered. "I see. You do, of course, know that your father has sent these all over Middle Earth by now?" He handed the scroll from the messenger hawk to Thranduil. If he was hoping for a serious response, he was disappointed.

Thranduil chuckled with amusement as he read the scroll. "Ah, ada, your mind is full of dirty tricks! I suppose, Lord Elrond, that you will not be able to help me. I will leave at once."

The scroll was a Wanted poster that read simply:

 _WANTED: Alive Thranduil Oropherion. The royal Prince of Greenwood the Great has run away from home due to temporary insanity resulting from the unfortunate misuse of a potion. Anyone who can bring news of the Prince to King Oropher will be rewarded. Anyone bringing the Prince back home will be rewarded HANDSOMELY._

"I am unconvinced of your sanity," Elrond said.

"If you want to put me in your healing wing and fill me up with herbal remedies, you will be sadly disappointed," Thranduil said. "You only have my word for it that King Oropher is artistically lying."

In his mind, Thranduil sighed. His life had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. But what else could have happened? Oropher was bound to do something!

"Yes, I do. And I do not believe you. Guards!"

At Elrond's cry, Thranduil frowned. So the half-elf was serious and he was going to try to "cure" his apparent insanity.

"Farewell," said Thranduil with a wave. "I will try not to injure to many people on my way out."

He broke through the approaching guards and fled down the passageway. The passageway ended in a domed room overlooking the valley. There were no walls; the room was an open gazebo set in the cliff side. The guards were coming behind him. Elrond was at there head.

"Thranduil, stop. This will be easier if you cooperate."

"You are said to be wise, Elrond," Thranduil said. "I begin to doubt your wisdom."

"You have nowhere to go," Elrond said. "Be sensible. Running away from home has caused your father worry and your mother heartbreak. Go back."

"After 4,0000 years, I am entitled to a little freedom," Thranduil said. "I will be a slave no longer! And you are wrong. I have a place to go. I can jump."

"Thranduil, NO!"

Thranduil jumped. He grabbed his braid of hair and spun it above his head. At the right moment, he let the braid fly. It flew upward, lassoing a rock on the opposite cliff side. Thranduil flew through the air, landing with his feet on the rocks. He began to climb with the aid of his rope of hair up the cliff. At the top, he came out on a path that led out of the valley into the plains. He yelled for Flyfire and ran.

"Valar, he has gone crazy," Elrond said. "Lay off trying to catch him; he is long gone."

Thranduil burst out into the plains. Flyfire came galloping to meet him. As he was about to mount, a weak squawk attracted his attention. It was a messenger hawk lying in the grass with an injured wing. Thranduil picked up the bird. It was she with brilliant yellow eyes. He sat down and tended to her wing. It appeared to be broken. As he rose to his feet, a voice behind him spoke and Thranduil whirled around. It was Elrond!

"I thought about what you said," Elrond said. "And I have some advice for you. Ride for Rohan. There is someone there I think you should meet. His name is Ciran Greenwood."

"Is he an elf?"

"Yes. And he to is a runaway Prince."

Thranduil mounted Flyfire, placing the hawk on the moose's antlers. She perched there, keeping her balance with her one good wing. Thranduil nodded to Elrond. "Hannon le. My opinion of you has changed. Perhaps you are wise. Farewell."

And Thranduil rode for Rohan, full of curiosity about Ciran Greenwood.

* * *

 **Your feedback is appreciated. Thoughts having to do with the story only, please.  
**


	3. Poison

Rohan was a beautiful land. Its hills were many and the grass went on for miles. It was a land famous for its fine horses.

Thranduil was riding aimlessly across Rohan. He saw herds of wild horses for afar but they scattered, running swiftly across the plains at the sight of the stranger on his moose. Eventually he would cross the mountains into Gondor. He thought perhaps Elrond has been misinformed as to the whereabouts of Ciran Greenwood or that the elf had moved on. He was annoyed at his inability to find Ciran Greenwood but it was hard to track anyone or anything in the middle of the plains. He was a week's ride from Edoras by now and he had nothing to show for it. He had bypassed a dozen or so groups of armed riders out keeping Rohan clear of orcs. He spoke to none of them in case they were familiar with his face for he had seen Oropher's accursed wanted posters pinned to the few lone trees. The last thing he needed was a pack of money-hungry rohirram after him.

"Well, Flyfire, I am done looking for Ciran Greenwood," Thranduil said with a sigh. "Elrond sent me on a wild goose chase. I bet he is laughing at my stupidity—whoa!"

Flyfire came to an abrupt halt. A dozen elves ride out of the long grass, longbows drawn back; arrows glinting in the setting sun. Thranduil was no about to try any fancy moves. Ducking orc arrows was one thing. Elven arrows were not to be messed around with. Elves had a famous aim.

"Dismount and throw down your weapons," said one elf. A cowl hid his face.

Thranduil dismounted. "I come in peace. But if you are of those determined to take me home to my father, you can forget it! I would rather die!"

The elf that has spoken circled Thranduil. "That could be arranged. I think your father's reward would be indeed great."

Thranduil frowned.

"Disarm yourself," the elf repeated.

Thranduil started undoing his sword belt. "Who are you?"

"That is irrelevant," said the elf.

Thranduil lifted an eyebrow. He let his sword fall to the ground, followed by his dagger.

"Now take off your cloak."

"What; must I disrobe out here and display my naked body to you?" Thranduil demanded, his temper rising.

"Just about," said the elf.

"Who are you?" Thranduil demanded again. He moved, grabbing the elf's cowl and jerking it back. The elf gasped and so did Thranduil. All he could do was stare.

"Do not shoot!" yelled the elf.

"Who are you?" Thranduil said uncertainly.

The elf sighed. "I am Ciran Greenwood."

Ciran Greenwood resembled Thranduil so closely there was no doubt they were related. But how?

"And I am also your half-brother," Ciran said. "We share the same father."

Thranduil recoiled. "Oropher would never cheat on nana!"

"I was born out of wedlock," Ciran explained. "Before Oropher married your mother, he was with mine. My mother never told Oropher about me. She was angry with him for marrying your mother instead of her. She tried to make me hate Oropher. And then she married my step-father and he—he mistreated me."

"So you ran away," Thranduil said.

"Yes, I did. Mount and come with us. Have no fear; I will not take you somewhere you have no wish to go."

Thranduil grabbed his weapons and mounted Flyfire. Ciran whistled loudly and a herd of wild horses galloped toward them. The elves mounted and horses and rode out across the plains. Thranduil rode next to Ciran.

"Why did you leave home?" Ciran asked. "You are a Prince. You must have had everything you could ever want. Life out here is full of danger, death, struggle, and hunger."

Thranduil shrugged. "Here I am free. I am not a slave to duty and the will of my father. I do not care if I starve to death as long as I die free."

Ciran sighed. "My stepfather treated me like a slave. I know how it feels."

"You really want the reward my father is offering for me," Thranduil said knowingly.

"We; the tribe I am a part of, could really use the money."

"I can solve your problems," Thranduil declared. "Are you the leader of the tribe?"

"No. I am only the second-in-command. I will take you to meet my chief when we reach home."

"How far are we from your home?"

"Only a few hours ride. We live in natural underground tunnel systems underneath Rohan. The rohirram consider us enemies and kill us for sport."

"Why?"

"The humans are unwilling to share the land with us. They are greedy and selfish."

"Have you done something wrong?" Thranduil ventured to ask.

Ciran shook his head. "We are just a group of runaway or exiled elves seeking to start anew."

"Surely you do not have to live here?"

"Trust me when I say this is the safest place for us. Other elves regard us as dangerous criminals."

Thranduil nodded. "Who is your chief?"

"Chieftess," Ciran corrected. "Her name is Elithial."

"Do you have any children?"

Ciran looked at his hands. "I have one son. His name is Jaiz. What about you?"

"Perhaps one day," Thranduil said cheerfully. "Where is your wife?"

"Dead. Rohirram killed her many years ago, when Jaiz was 67."

"I share your grief," Thranduil said sympathetically.

"Hannon le."

The group rode in silence until they reached more hilly ground. At the base of a hill, the riders stopped and dismounted. The horses turned and ran away. Thranduil patted Flyfire on the neck. "You stay here and keep a low profile until I get back, buddy."

The messenger hawk, named Dailily, screeched and flew into the sky. Flyfire bobbed his head.

An elf burst out of a door concealed in the hillside, startling Thranduil. "Sir Ciran, it is your son. Healer Faineth does not believe he will live."

Ciran let out a choked cry and dashed through the door into the tunnels beyond. Thranduil followed him into the hill. The maze of underground tunnels smelled of damp earth and the oily smoke coming off the torches bracketing the walls. Passing elves moved out of their way with curious stares at Thranduil. Ciran skidded to a halt before a round hole with a heavy blanket hanging over it. He took a deep breath and walked inside.

The air was hot and heavy in the room beyond the curtain. Lying in a bed was a young elf. Sweat drenched his black hair and pale face. He was moaning, writhing under the sheets. Blood leaked out of his mouth.

A woman rose from a kneeling position on the floor. Her brown hair was tied back from her face. She was tall and slender, dressed in a simple green robe.

"Sir Ciran, your son's condition is worsening," Faineth said impassively. "There is nothing I can do."

"How much longer does he have?" Ciran asked tearfully.

"Two weeks perhaps. I am truly sorry."

Ciran sat down numbly at his son's side and caressed the boy's cheek. At his father's touch, Jaiz calmed and stopped crying out.

"What happened to him?" Thranduil asked softly.

"Jaiz was out hunting with a group of elves," Faineth said. "They were attacked by rohirram with poisoned blades. Jaiz is a good warrior and he stayed behind so all his friends could escape. As a result of his brave actions, much of the Zyrackzil poison entered his veins. There is no cure for Zyrackzil poison once it begins to work."

Zyrackzil. Zyrackzil? Zyrackzil!

"No, no, there is a cure!" Thranduil cried. "I know from my extensive studying that there is a cure. It is a small flower that grows in the mountains called Pholia."

"We do not have any," Faineth said.

Thranduil looked at the dying elfling in the bed. Ciran was clasping his son's thin hand and weeping. The sight made Thranduil's heart ache.

Another woman entered the room with brusque movements. She moved with confidence in her armor. Her features were sharp and clear yet very attractive.

Ciran forced himself to rise and bow. "Chieftess Elithial."

The woman looked at Thranduil. Then she glared at Ciran. "Why did you not come to me immediately with your report? You have brought a stranger into our home that could well be a spy! I will have you punished!"

"F-forgive me, my lady. But when I heard of my son's condition, I acted without thinking."

Elithial's eyebrow twitched. "How unwise of you. We will all miss Jaiz. He was a good warrior. But he is dying from a poison for which there is no cure. To weep over him is useless."

Ciran turned quickly away. The words knifed his heart and made it bleed. Tears flowed from his eyes. Jaiz would be gone soon. Any time with him was precious. Once Jaiz was gone there would be nothing left in the world worth living for. He heard Thranduil speaking and whirled around as the words registered. Cure? There was a cure for the poison?

Ciran fell to his knees, begging, "Please, my lady, let me go and find the cure to heal my son. My child is dying; my only child! He is life to me. Let me save him! I beg you!"

"No, Ciran. I need you hear. This cure is only a mythic fantasy. You may not leave."

All hope faded from Ciran's heart. The light in his eyes went out. Jaiz would die and he—he would die to.

Thranduil grabbed Elithial by the front of her cloak and hauled her close, eyes flashing. "Listen to me, you heartless fiend! This child is dying and you would refuse his father the chance to save him? Even my father would not be so cruel! Do you know the love that exists between parent and child? To lose your child is like death itself to an elf!"

"Ciran will recover," Elithial said. "We all do."

"Have you lost a child?" Thranduil demanded.

"No. My daughter both live."

"Only thanks to Jaiz," Faineth put in.

"So it is like that!" Thranduil spat. "You would watch your daughter savior die without a bloody care!" He let go of Elithial, shoving her back. Thranduil turned to Ciran. "I am going to find the Pholia. You and Faineth stay here and keep Jaiz alive as long as possible."

Ciran's eyes filled with a small glimmer of hope. He rose to his feet and embraced Thranduil, trembling. "Hannon le, hannon le. You do not know—" His voice choked off into grateful tears.

Thranduil turned to Elithial with an icy stare that out hers to shame. "You will not disturb Ciran or Faineth while I am gone. If you do, I will not give you the 4,000 gold I was feeling so generous with today."

Elithial's eyes widened. "4,000 gold?"

"Yes. And if you behave while I am gone, when I come back, I might be feeling generous again," Thranduil said coldly. He winked over his shoulder at Ciran as he ran from the room. Elithial desperately wanted that money; he could see it in her eyes. She would leave Ciran and Faineth alone if that was what it took to get it.

Thranduil burst into the sun and flung himself on Flyfire. He knew there was a long chain of mountains to the southwest. If he rode hard, he could get there in five days, maybe seven.

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 **Any thoughts and suggestions on the story are appreciated. Thanks.  
**


	4. Too Late?

Thranduil was reluctantly taking a break from riding. He was sitting by a small fire. Flyfire needed rest and food before he could keep running. The hawk was flying above the camp, staying alert for danger. Thranduil lay back and rested. He was tired from riding.

Flyfire nudged Thranduil awake. Thranduil blinked and sat up. The ground shook beneath him. He stood up quickly. Darn! Riders of Rohan were galloping toward him and not looking too friendly either. Just what he needed!

Thranduil flung himself onto Flyfire. "Run, my friend, run! The humans will kill us if they catch us!"

Flyfire ran. The horses were close at his heels. Thranduil did not want to kill anyone but, if his life depended on it, what choice did he have? Flyfire was just pulling ahead of the horses when a long, eerie howl echoed across the plains and wargs burst out of the tall grass.

"Valar, why must you be so unfair on me?" Thranduil demanded. The wargs could not catch Flyfire but they would slaughter the horses and the riders of Rohan. Thranduil struggled with himself. Help the humans and risk getting killed or ignore them and keep riding? He heard a scream and winced. With a sigh, he turned Flyfire around.

Thranduil held onto Flyfire with his knees and drew his sword. He neared the wargs. In one smooth move, he did a handspring off Flyfire's rump. His feet landed on the back of the nearest warg. The warg bucked, trying to throw Thranduil off but Thranduil flung himself forward and stabbed his sword into the animal's skull. As the warg pitched face-first into the ground, Thranduil launched himself through the air with his sword thrust forward. His sword blade impaled another warg. He jerked his sword free, landing solidly on the ground.

A warg lunged at him. Thranduil dropped to one knee, raising his sword above his head. The warg cut its underbelly open on the blade as it leaped right onto it. With an effort, Thranduil heaved the dead animal off his head and pulled his sword from the bloody wound. The riders of Rohan had dealt with the last two wargs. Before they could turn on him, Thranduil mounted Flyfire and set the moose at a gallop. The riders of Rohan did not pursue him.

Flyfire ran for three days and nights. At the end of that time, he reached the mountains. The Pholia grew up in the highest crags and peaks of the mountains. Flyfire would not be able to climb up there. He would have to go on foot alone.

Thranduil dismounted and patted Flyfire on the neck. "You stay here with Dailily and keep a look out for those riders of Rohan in case they come looking for us! See you soon, mellon nin."

Thranduil ran for the mountains and began to climb the slopes. He climbed with energy and vigor, leaping lithely from rock to rock, climbing the steep ground with long, swift strides. He threw himself into the momentum of keeping his body going. After a few hours, he began to run, remembering the fierce flames of his campfire flickering in the darkness. The fire was strong. Thranduil felt the flames burning within him. His blood raced through his veins. He felt alive. His arms and legs moved, full of willpower and determination. They did not tire. The fire burned on within him as he ran.

Thranduil came to a sheer upright wall of jagged rock. It looked like the dwarves had carved it out of the mountain perhaps to make a stronghold but it had been abandoned for a long time now. All along the top of the flat wall, Pholia grew in fields. Thranduil eyed a gigantic boulder perched at the top of the wall. That was his way up. He unhooked his heavy braid. He formed a lasso with it, large enough to slip over the top of the boulder. He spun it over his head and let it fly. His arm muscles were strong and he was able to throw the lasso all the way to the top of the wall. The lasso dropped over the rock. Thranduil tugged it to make sure it would hold. It would. He began to climb hand over hand up the braid, bracing his feet along the wall as he went. He reached the top and rolled onto his back into the middle of the Pholia. He lay and rested, gasping, his fires burning low.

Thranduil stood up and began to gather Pholia. He gathered as much as he could carry. Thranduil removed his hair from the boulder and considered how to get back down. At the bottom of the wall, he would be unable to jerk his hair off the rock. There had to be another way and jumping was out of the question. Finally he took his dagger and drove it into the stone wall up to the hilt. He tied his hair firmly around it and jumped, fearful and apprehensive. What if the dagger came free before he reached the bottom? Holding onto his braid, he slid down it, nearing the ground as gravity helped his descent. One end of the braid was attached to his head, the other to the dagger. In his mind's eye he could see the dagger jerking loose from the rock from his weight. Just as his feet touched the ground, the braid went slack and tumbled to the ground. The dagger came down after it, the hilt clonking Thranduil on the head before he could move out of the way.

Thranduil coiled his braid and sheathed his dagger. Then he took off running back down the mountain, his fires flaring back to life. By dawn the next day, he reached the spot where he had left Flyfire. His legs were now feeling like jelly. All he could do was collapse on the softest bit of ground and sleep.

"Ow! Flyfire, go away!" Thranduil mumbled. He blinked up at a fresh sky. He must have slept for a day at least. Dailily was sitting on his shoulder, pecking him.

"You annoying bird!" Thranduil exclaimed, bolting upright. "What was that for, I should like to know? Shoo!"

Dailily squawked and flew skyward, scattering feathers. Thranduil ate lembas bread for breakfast. He mounted Flyfire. It was non-stop back to Ciran. He hoped he would be in time and Jaiz would still be alive.

A week later Flyfire stopped in front of the familiar hill. Thranduil ran through the secret door and ran for Jaiz's room, consciously aware of every passing second. Was he in time to save Jaiz or was it too late?

* * *

 **Any story related thoughts or feelings are appreciated.  
**


	5. Addiction

Ciran leaped up from Jaiz's bedside, demanding, "Do you have it?"

Thranduil thrust a handful of Pholia into Faineth's hands. She was a healer; she would know what to do with it without instruction. With a handful of his own, he sat down by Jaiz. The poor elfling was looking thinner and paler. He pried Jaiz's mouth open and placed the Pholia flowers inside. Jaiz murmured, his head rolling. But he began to suck on the flowers with eagerness.

Ciran took his son's hand and squeezed it, looking across the bed at Thranduil with tears in his eyes.

"You are welcome," Thranduil said softly.

Jaiz moaned. His eyes cracked open for the first time in weeks. His voice was dry and hoarse. He coughed with each word. "A-ada? Ada?"

"Suck on the flowers," Thranduil advised the boy.

Jaiz obeyed, turning his head toward his father. Ciran's blue eyes met his green ones, glistening with tears. He could feel ada's hand holding his, squeezing it gently but he did not have the strength to squeeze back. Instead he smiled and whispered, "Impossible as it may seem, I-I feel better, ada."

Ciran smiled back. "Good. Lie back and rest. No more talking. You are still weak. You must recover your strength."

"But I do not understand," Jaiz murmured. "There is no cure for Zyrackzil . . . . ." His eyes closed and he slept.

"I cannot believe it worked so fast!" Faineth exclaimed, staring at Jaiz in surprise.

"The Pholia has blocked the flow of the poison," Thranduil explained. "Zyrackzil drains energy as it progresses through its victim's body, making the host weaker. Now that the poison is halted, Jaiz's strength is returning to him instead of being sucked away. But he will have to keep taking the Pholia to keep the poison at bay until it is gone from his system."

Faineth nodded. "I am making a tea."

"I do have one warning though," Thranduil said. "People sometimes become addicted to Pholia and depend utterly on it for their energy. So, once Jaiz is visibly recovering, lessen the dose."

Faineth nodded again.

"What does the Pholia taste like?" Ciran asked.

"Sugar syrup," Thranduil answered.


	6. Curse or Blessing?

"I want to thank you for saving my life," Jaiz said, clasping his hands behind his back. "Hannon le."

"You are welcome," Thranduil said, smiling. "You are looking much healthier. The color has come back to your cheeks."

Jaiz sat down beside Thranduil on the hill. "What are you doing?"

Thranduil snapped his journal shut. "Nothing." He tucked his pen behind his ear.

"I was wondering . . . why did you leave your ada? I could never leave mine."

"Not everyone is as lucky as you, Jaiz," Thranduil replied.

Jaiz chewed on a stalk of grass. "Where are you going after you leave here?"

"I do not know. Where ever I feel like running. I am free now."

"Is there nothing you have dreamed about doing?" Jaiz asked.

"My dream was to be free," Thranduil answered. "Now that I am free, nothing has replaced it yet."

"I know what my dream is," Jaiz said, looking out over the plains with longing in his eyes. "I want to become one of the greatest swordsmasters that ever lived! I am already good. Do you know the legend about the secret to becoming a master swordsman? My dream is to find the secret tower where all knowledge is preserved and learn that secret. Do you think I could?"

"I am sure you could. But that is a big dream for a small elfling, hmm?"

"Ada said that to," Jaiz said gloomily.

"Ahem!" said Ciran from behind Thranduil. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow. Why?" Thranduil demanded.

"Because I am coming with you," Ciran declared.

"You are?" Thranduil exclaimed.

"Yes, I am. I have decided that my talents are wasted here. I have an ungrateful Chieftess. Besides that, there is barely any water here for me to play with. But if you do not want my—"

"I would welcome your company," Thranduil interrupted. "What does water have to do with this?"

Ciran looked uncomfortable. He sat down next to Jaiz. "I—ahem—I did not tell you the whole truth about my past. There are instances in this world that create miracles. When I was born, the heavens were aligned in a way that gave me special powers. I-I can bend water. I feel dried out and weak in these plains."

"You feel better when it rains," Jaiz said, leaning his head on his father's shoulder.

"Yes, but it does not rain often," Ciran said, looking up at the cloudless sky. "I need to be near lots of water."

"So you can bend water," Thranduil said slowly. Then he grinned. "You are indeed blessed by the heavens, gwador nin. Why are you living here if you need water to survive?"

Ciran wrapped his arms around his son. "I did it for Jaiz. I was afraid I would be unable to protect him alone out in the wilderness. I was still learning to control my gift. I came here so Jaiz would be safe."

"I can look after myself now, ada," Jaiz said. "Where you go, I go to. I am coming with you. I have seen you bending water at night, ada. It does not make me afraid of you. I do not have any gift, ada, and I did not inherit it from you, but I will help you master your bending."

Ciran kissed the top of Jaiz's black head. "Hannon le, ion-nin. You did not think anything of my gift?"

"I thought you could give me a nice shower," Jaiz said with a smirk.

"You better go pack," Thranduil advised. "I start early, at the crack of dawn. Does Elithial know she has driven you away?"

Ciran smacked Thranduil on the arm. "No! But I will leave her a note. Driven me away indeed!"

"Leave this as well," Thranduil held out a diamond bracelet. "This bracelet is worth the 4,000 gold I promised her."

The next day at dawn, the three riders set out. Jaiz and Ciran rode horses. Jaiz was dressed in a suit of full plate elven armor.

"It was my mother's," Jaiz explained. "She was a great warrior. When she died, it was her wish that I have her armor, sword, and shield."

"Some minor adjustments had to be made, I imagine," Thranduil said.

"Yes, but the metalsmith had no problem. This armor has saved my life many times. Where did you get your armor? It is beautiful."

"My armor has not the history yours does. The armor smiths of my homeland made my armor for me. It has no family history whatsoever. My father gave me this armor so that my life would be safer when I rode into battle. My father did not want to lose his only heir."

Jaiz was silent. He cleared his throat. "I apologize. I did not mean to touch a nerve."

"There is no need to apologize."

"How old are you?" Jaiz asked.

"Oh, I forget exactly. Somewhere around 4,000, I should think. I have seen Sauron rise and be defeated many times now."

"But Sauron will rise again," Ciran said. "It is just a matter of time."

Thranduil nodded grimly.

"If we are going to have to fight Sauron again, do you not think we should try and find the secret to great swordsmanship?" Jaiz suggested persuasively.

Ciran looked sternly at his son. "I told you that is simply a legend and you are not to waste your life searching for it."

"Actually, some tales suggest that the Tower of Guarded Secrets exists," Thranduil said. "But its location is unknown."

"You are not to go looking for it, Jaiz," Ciran said. "Many elves have wasted their lifetimes searching for it. Many of them died during their travels."

"Yes, ada," Jaiz said meekly.

Thranduil knew nothing could stop anyone from living their dream if they desired it enough. Ciran looked like he knew it to but refused to admit it for fear he would lose his son to some obsession for knowledge.

After four days of riding, Thranduil, Ciran, and Jaiz came to the river Anduin. The water flowed swift and strong. The river was wide and deep, white foam cresting the waves.

"This is where we stay until you are ready to move on," Thranduil said to Ciran.

"You do not have to do this for me," Ciran objected. But his eyes kept looking at the water with eagerness.

Thranduil laughed. "Nonsense! I have nowhere to go! Besides, I promised to teach Jaiz all I know about the sword. Me and Jaiz will be busy to while you play with the water."

"I promise to repay you for your kindness," Ciran said, dismounting. He walked to the bank of the river. His muscles tensed. With a yell, he flung himself into the river.

Thranduil dismounted and unsaddled the horses. He and Jaiz set up camp. As Thranduil was lighting the fire, he felt as though he knew a faster way to do it. He shook away the feeling. Once camp was prepared, Thranduil went to see how Ciran was doing with his water-bending. He sat down with Jaiz on the riverbank and looked around for Ciran.

Ciran's wet head appeared above the waves. The water below him propelled him to the surface. His feet landed on the water as though it were solid. A small ball of water separated from the rushing water, rising into the air. It curled into a lash. Ciran added more water to the whip. Then he let it fly. The water flew through the air, wrapped around Thranduil, and froze solid.

Ciran's hands flew to his mouth. "Oh, Thranduil, I am so sorry! I was not trying to hit you."

"You need to work on your aim," Thranduil grumbled. "Oooh, freezing, freezing! Get it off!"

Ciran made a gesture and the ice melted, streaming back to him and forming into a ball. He turned back to his bending, pushing and pulling the water, creating fountains and jets, walls and ice with elaborate hand movements.

Thranduil felt a little sick. The memory of the ice around him made him queasy. He did not like the feeling of imprisonment. With an effort, he controlled himself. Ciran looked at him anxiously.

"Valar, Thranduil, did I hurt you?" Ciran asked worriedly.

Thranduil shook his head, swallowing. "No. No, I just did not like the feeling of cold. I have never liked ice or cold. Whenever I am in water or surrounded by cold, I feel edgy and vulnerable. I do not know why."

"Well, you and Jaiz can go duel now. I am going to be here for a while. I will bring back fish for dinner."

Thranduil stood up and walked out into the plains. Jaiz followed him eagerly. They began to duel, swords clashing. Jaiz was a good swordsman and he did not tire easily. He and Thranduil went on for hours, testing their limits. Thranduil was taking it easy on Jaiz. He wanted to see what Jaiz knew and what Jaiz needed to learn.

Jaiz's sword clipped his cheek, drawing blood. The sharp pain caused anger to roar up in Thranduil. He could not control it. The anger exploded out of him, taking the physical form of fire. Jaiz fell to his knees, ducking behind his shield. The heat was overwhelming and the stream of fire pounding against his shield was hot and never ending. Thranduil was going to burn him to a crisp!

"Ada!" Jaiz screamed. He did not know how Thranduil could make fire or why he was trying to kill him. But he did know he needed help. Sweat rolled down his face. The flames curled. "Ada!"

* * *

 **Surprise, huh? I know, this was unexpected but I hope it does not ruin the story for you, or the images of the characters.  
**

 **Story related thoughts are appreciated. Thanks for reading.**


	7. The Earth Bender

Ciran came running. At the sight of Thranduil viciously sending a stream of fire at his son, he called a bubble of water out of the river, floated it over Thranduil's head, and let it drop.

Thranduil's fires went out with a hiss. He dropped to his knees with a gasp and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. Jaiz fell on his back, still holding onto his shield. He collected himself and got to his feet. He stumbled toward Ciran and Thranduil, slightly dazed.

"Ion-nin, are you all right?" Ciran grasped Jaiz's shoulders worriedly.

Jaiz nodded. Ciran turned to Thranduil. "I am sorry, gwador-nin. I had to do what I did. Are you all right?"

Thranduil was shivering, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around him. His eyes were closed. Ciran shook him. Thranduil's eyes flew open.

"I feel ill," he moaned.

Ciran lugged his brother back to camp and got him out of his armor. As soon as Thranduil was near the fire, he stopped shivering. He stared into the flames and said quietly, "Now there are two of us with gifts we cannot control."

Ciran huffed. "I can control mine! What set you off like that?"

"Pain," Thranduil said, touching the cut on his cheek.

Jaiz looked ashamed. "I am sorry."

"I am sorry to," Thranduil said. "I did not mean to get angry. Everything happened so fast. I could not control the fire or myself. I do not know how I came to have such fire within me. I always felt the drive but I have never called it out of myself like that."

"I can help you learn to control it," Ciran offered. "I suppose the heavens must have been aligned in the fire symbol the day you were born."

"But what about me?" Jaiz demanded. "Thranduil is supposed to be teaching me!"

"We will continue to train," Thranduil said. "But only after I have learned to control my gift." He touched the elfling's cheek. "If I get angry again and loose control, I might end up killing you."

Jaiz nodded, swallowing. "I-I understand. Did it—did it hurt when ada dumped water all over you?"

Thranduil shuddered, squeezing his eyes closed. "Valar, it was devastating! All my fires went out. It felt like I had died!"

Ciran looked guilty. "I am deeply sorry."

"You were only doing what any father would do in such a situation," Thranduil said quickly. "Now, where are those fish you promised for dinner, eh?"

Ciran slapped a hand to his forehead. "I forgot! One minute while I go fish for them." He departed for the river, returning with seven fat fish.

"Water is irresistible," Ciran said, rolling a ball of water in his hands. The fish were roasting over the fire.

"No, fire is," Thranduil said, resting his chin on his knees and staring at the coals.

"I think the Tower of Guarded Secrets is even more irresistible," Jaiz said loudly.

Ciran turned a baleful eye on his son.

"Hey, everyone was giving their opinions on the irresistible so I joined in," Jaiz said in defense.

"Thranduil, no!" Ciran cried out. "You cannot control it!"

Thranduil put his hands into the fire. The fire came to him. It traveled up his arms and legs, burning with delicious heat yet not harming him. His hair burst into flame. His eyes glowed. Thranduil felt alive. He looked at Ciran as he withdrew his hands from the campfire. The fire on him continued to burn.

"If I do anything rash, put me out," Thranduil said. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat of the fire. He wrapped his mind around the fire, dominating it. The fire bent to his will, roaring up at his command. Thranduil kept himself in check. He ordered the fire down and it all went out. He did not want to try anything too advanced and hurt the ones he loved.

Ciran relaxed. He looked at Thranduil with approval. "Time to eat," he said.

Thranduil was just about to bite into his fish when he had a curious feeling of dread and he looked up. A boulder was hovering above him!

"Stay where you are and no one will get hurt!" A scrawny, ragged boy emerged out of the tall grass, obviously the master of the ominous boulder.

Thranduil froze. He was not about to risk the weight of the huge rock hovering over his head. The boy moved toward the fire. He had the lithe build of an elf and the slanted eyes but no pointy ears were visible through his hair. It was all rather odd. He sat down by the fire and began to devour a fish, one hand outstretched to keep his hold on the boulder active.

"Do you bend earth?" Ciran asked pointlessly.

The boy did not answer. He kept hungrily chewing on the fish. After a moment, he maneuvered the boulder away from Thranduil and let it drop. Using both hands, he could eat the fish faster. His dark eyes darted around, looking at Ciran, Jaiz, and finally Thranduil.

"What is your name?" Thranduil asked, returning to his dinner. "I am Thranduil, this is my brother, Ciran, and my nephew, Jaiz."

"Ellhamier," murmured the boy, reaching for another fish.

"Where do you live?"

Ellhamier shrugged.

Ellhamier was an elven name. But for all his peering, Thranduil could not make out any pointed ears. Yet the boy was obviously an elf. Or maybe he was not? Maybe he was some wicked trick designed by Sauron to lure elves into traps? Thranduil leaned forward and pushed Ellhamier's back. What he saw made him gasp and his sympathetic eyes met Ellhamier's startled ones.

Thranduil spoke in elvish, anger trembling in his voice. "Who dared do this to you?"

Ellhamier answered back in elvish. "Slavers. They made me work in their mines for 25 years. I made the tunnel collapse. I killed them all."

Thranduil let Ellhamier's hair fall back into place. "When you are done eating, you must let me tend to your ears."

Ellhamier nodded and ate the last two fish. He watched Ciran streaming water into a pot over the fire. "You are all benders to."

"We are still learning," Ciran said with a smile.

Ellhamier nodded. "Me to. I did not realize I had this power until I needed it. One of the overseer's was punishing me for not working. I could not; I was too weak and hungry and sick. He would have killed me. That was when I earth-bent for the first time. I escaped right after that."

"How old are you?" Thranduil asked, taking out his comb and combing out Ellhamier's hair. The elfling's hair was filthy, full of bugs and dirt.

"37. I was enslaved when I was only seven. My family were all killed. I escaped when I was 32. I have been wandering around for five years now."

The water in the pot over the fire was heated. Ciran dipped a cloth into the water. Thranduil held Ellhamier's hair back. Some cruel person had cut off the tips of Ellhamier's ears in such a way that the tops of his ears now looked like a W. The wounds had not healed; they had festered. Pus and blood oozed from the cuts.

"Years of this," Ciran muttered in disbelief. He started peeling off the infected scabs.

Ellhamier bit his lip, drawing blood. He tried to ignore the pain. He knew his kin were trying to help him but it hurt. It hurt so badly.

Ciran thoroughly cleaned the injuries. The flesh still wept but the worst of it was gone. He plastered some chewed herbs onto the cuts and bandaged them on. Ellhamier collapsed against Thranduil with a sob. Thranduil held him awkwardly and whispered soothing words. After a few minutes, he relaxed and stroked Ellhamier's hair. Ellhamier snuffled, snuggling against him. Thranduil felt tears prick his eyes. This was probably the first time Ellhamier had been touched kindly in a long time. Ellhamier fell asleep. Thranduil stood up and ducked into the tent. Jaiz followed him and prepared another bed. Thranduil knelt down and let Ellhamier slip gently to the floor. Ellhamier stirred slightly. Thranduil tucked the heavy blanket over him.

Ciran put out the fire and came into the tent. He looked at Ellhamier with a smile on his lips. Jaiz was getting out of his armor. He shed everything but his trousers and flopped down by his father on their bed. Ciran beckoned for Thranduil to join them. Thranduil lay down on Jaiz's empty side. Jaiz rolled over and cuddled up against him. Ciran yawned and rolled onto his stomach. It was not that he was tired of holding his son but he was okay with letting Thranduil take the ache of it for one night.

* * *

 **So there you go. We now have our earth bender. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Any story-related thoughts or feedback are appreciated. Thanks!  
**


	8. To Mordor!

Ellhamier woke up wondering where he was. He was warm and comfortable. His ears were not hurting as badly as they usually did but the bandages had come off. He sat up, yawning. The tent was empty. It was midday. Ellhamier got up and exited the tent. Thranduil was practicing fire bending. Ciran was down by the river, riding waves. Jaiz was sitting by the fire, patiently shining armor. He grinned when he saw Ellhamier. "Want some lunch?"

Ellhamier nodded. He sat down opposite Jaiz and took the bowl of stew Jaiz handed him. He began to eat, asking, "How long did I sleep?"

Jaiz added up the days on his fingers. "Seven or eight days. You were exhausted! Thranduil was yelling his head off a few days ago because he could not get a grip on the fire whip. But you slept right through it."

"I learned to sleep through anything in the mines," Ellhamier said quietly.

Jaiz cleared his throat. "I am sorry. I did not mean to touch a nerve."

Ellhamier nodded. "I know."

"So—uh—what were you mining?"

"Iron," Ellhamier answered.

"For what?"

"Sauron built Barad-dur thousands of years ago. But he keeps adding to its defenses and for that he needs lots more iron. The mines were in Mordor. I only escaped because of my bending."

Jaiz looked at Ellhamier. Ellhamier was casually playing with a handful of rocks, causing them to dance in the air while his fingers twirled. Ellhamier's activities brought a smile to his face. Jaiz could tell Ellhamier felt happier when he was using his gift. He went back to shining his breastplate.

"Well, you are progressing," Ciran remarked, coming to admire Thranduil's ferocious fire bending. He himself was making a ball of water dance in the air. Thranduil's fire burned fierce and strong, like the heart of its creator. It swished and whirled, exploding in a final flash.

"Yes, my fire bending is improving," Thranduil agreed. "I am getting better at mastering my gift. How do you fair?"

"Wonderfully," Ciran declared with a wide smile. He and Thranduil sprinted back to the campsite.

Ciran cleaned Ellhamier's ear tips. Then he told the elfling to go take a bath.

Ellhamier went obediently down to the river. Thranduil went after him with a bottle of lavender-scented shampoo and a clean change of clothes. He could not stand the way Ellhamier smelled or the state his hair. Ellhamier looked at him shyly from the water.

"Do you mind if I shampoo your hair?" Thranduil asked.

Ellhamier shook his head. Thranduil stripped down and plunged into the river. The water surrounded him, making him shiver. But the fire inside him continued to burn strong and fierce. Ellhamier stood still while Thranduil shampooed his hair about a dozen times.

"Will the soap hurt the river?" Ellhamier asked, rinsing his hair for the last time.

Thranduil hurled the empty shampoo bottle onto the bank. "No; elven shampoos never hurt nature."

Ellhamier shivered a bit as a breeze blew over his wet skin. Thranduil closed his eyes, concentrating on funneling his fire into the water. The water around him began to steam. He opened his eyes.

"Thanks," Ellhamier said.

"Hot pool!" Jaiz yelled, crashing into the water. "Thranduil rocks!"

Thranduil grinned. As Ciran came walking toward him over the water, he grabbed his brother's ankle and wrestled him under. Ciran came up to the surface gasping.

"The water feels good," he had to admit.

"Yes, and it is excellent for the skin," Thranduil agreed.

That evening the four elves sat around the fire, eating fish. Ellhamier had used earth bending to create a house with four solid walls, a roof, and a door.

"Tomorrow I am going to practice my bending to," Ellhamier said drowsily, leaning against Thranduil.

"Can you control yourself enough to teach me now, muinda?" Jaiz asked hopefully.

Thranduil nodded. "Yes. So tomorrow we are going to work on your leg muscle."

That was how Jaiz came to be running in full armor along the riverbank with his uncle. Thranduil ran fast and he did not seem to tire. Jaiz's legs started to feel like mush after the third hour. Thranduil's drive was his fire. Jaiz's drive was his stubbornness and refusal to let Thranduil beat him. They circled back to the camp, arriving for a late lunch.

Ciran looked at his flushed, panting son. He transferred his gaze to Thranduil. "I hope you are not pushing him to hard."

"It was only six hours," Thranduil said. "A standard run. Jaiz seemed to take it easily."

Jaiz smiled proudly. He ate lunch and sat by the fire, watching his companions practice their bending together.

Ciran's movements were smooth and liquid like. He created waves of water, and then froze them into walls. Thranduil's movements were more ferocious. The fire shot out of his hands in balls. Ellhamier's movements were brusque, all about the fists and feet. Boulders flew out of the earth and crashed back into the ground around him.

That night Jaiz's legs hurt so badly, the ache brought tears to his eyes. He buried his face in his pillow and clenched his teeth. Small whimpers escaped him. He was trembling slightly. There was no way he could go running tomorrow yet he wanted to.

"Jaiz?"

Jaiz felt his face flame. It was his muinda! Thranduil could not see him like this; it would be humiliating!

"Jaiz?" Thranduil knelt down by his nephew and made him roll over to face him. "Jaiz, look at me; a little pain is nothing to be afraid of. Six hours running was to much for you."

"No! No! It was not!" Jaiz sobbed.

Thranduil began to massage Jaiz's legs.

"I want to run again tomorrow," Jaiz cried. "This is not going to stop me! Please, muinda. I am not weak!"

"I never said you were. Therefore, we will run another six hours tomorrow. But if it gets to hard, you must tell me. I am not trying to kill you."

Jaiz nodded.

The next morning after breakfast, Thranduil and Jaiz went out running again, taking the same route as before. As Jaiz ran, the burning ache in his legs began to fade. His arms and legs moved. His lungs ached. Drawing in breath hurt but he refused to give up. His black hair came out of its fastenings and blew back in the wind.

As the days began to pass, the pain in Jaiz's legs lessened until it ceased to exist altogether. Jaiz began to enjoy the running. Once he could run six hours easily, Thranduil gradually lengthened the runs until they were running all day. When he and Jaiz could run all day, and Jaiz would not collapse in a shaky heap at the end of it, they began to practice acrobatics.

Jaiz did not bother to count the days he spent running and training. He and Thranduil dueled and wrestled and swam. Jaiz practiced defending himself from Thranduil's fire. And, by the time Jaiz's training was over, a whole year had passed.

"Training is never truly over," Thranduil said to Jaiz. "I could keep training you forever. But it is my opinion that you have learned everything you need to know. I know you will keep learning on your own."

"I will, muinda. Hannon le for being my teacher," Jaiz said graciously. "I will make you proud."

"NO!"

Jaiz looked up startled. "But why not?"

"I spent my life making my father proud if me; it was the only way to earn his love. What you do not, Jaiz, I want you to do for _you_." Thranduil pressed his hand against Jaiz's heart. "Make yourself proud. Once you begin making others proud, it can be hard to stop."

Jaiz stared into Thranduil's eyes and understood. He wrapped his arms around his uncle and hugged him. "I understand. I will make myself proud."

Thranduil smiled. "Good."

Ellhamier and Ciran came away from bending practice and approached them. "What is the occasion?"

"Thranduil is done teaching me," Jaiz announced. "He said he could go on for years. But he also said I have learned everything I need to know."

"I think we should move on then," Ciran said. "We no longer have anything to gain by staying here. I am satisfied with my water bending ability."

"We should head for Mordor," Thranduil said.

"Excuse me?" Ciran said in disbelief.

"According to the latest reports, orcs are emerging out of Mordor," Thranduil explained. "It is believed that Sauron is gathering his forces to attack. It will be an attack so vicious and an army so powerful, it will take both men and elves to stop him."

"Men and elves will never agree to an alliance," Ciran said. "How do you know it will take men and elves to stop him this time?"

"Think about it! Do you really think Sauron will stand to be defeated again? Never!"

"Thranduil, what have you been up to?" Ciran asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

A flush spread across Thranduil's cheeks. "I—ahem—I found it within my best interests to train Dailily to steal messages from other messenger hawks. She has been bringing back reports ever since."

Ellhamier's eyes widened. "But you are stealing information from Gondor and Rohan!"

Thranduil brushed that aside. "Nonsense. Multiple hawks are sent with copies of the same message to ensure at least one copy is delivered. I simply nab the extra."

Ciran, Jaiz, and Ellhamier considered this in silence. Finally they gave in to curiosity and asked, "And what has convinced you of Sauron's tremendous power?"

Thranduil produced a scroll. "This. This message came on the wings on a black hawk from Mordor. It was written by an elf that defied Sauron. It leaves no doubt as to the masses growing inside of Mordor. The numbers will grow to be so great that I am certain it will take both man and elf to stop them."

"Man and elf will never ally," Ciran said gloomily. "If that message is true, Sauron will attack and kill everyone. It will be a worldwide massacre. There will be no time to form an alliance."

"We can give them time," Thranduil declared. "We will slay all the small groups of orcs coming out of Mordor. We will give man and elf time to consider and alliance and do it!"

"We could all die," Ciran said.

"I will gladly die for my world," Thranduil said.

"The monsters of Mordor tortured me," Ellhamier said darkly. "Now is a time for revenge!"

Ciran and Jaiz looked at each other. "To Mordor!"

Thranduil called to Dailily and placed the message from the spy in her carrier. "Fly to Minas Tirith and deliver that. That will show the world and alliance is needed."

Dailily shrieked and flapped her wings. Her shadow was soon gone from the horizon. Thranduil, Ciran, Jaiz, and Ellhamier packed their belongings and saddled the horses. Thranduil mounted Flyfire. They crossed the river Anduin easily as Ciran bended the water aside to allow them to pass over the dry riverbed below. Once they were on the opposite bank, Ciran let the water fall back into the gap he had created. The riders rode for Mordor.

* * *

 **Story related thoughts are appreciated.  
**


	9. In The Heart Of Mordor

"Who is he?" Jaiz wondered.

Thranduil, Ciran, Jaiz, and Ellhamier were lying on their stomachs, peering down over the edge of the cliff. Down below them in a small clearing in the mountains surrounding Mordor, was an elf.

The elf's red hair was tumbling down his back in a glossy mass. The ends wisped and curled. All he had for apparent weapons were two metal, painted fans. He was dressed in black.

"Someone is coming," Ellhamier said suddenly. "I feel the tremors in the ground . . . wait, many people are coming."

A horde of orcs spilled over the crest of the hill below the four elves. They fanned out around the elf. One of the orcs mounted on a warg gnashed his teeth and spat at the elf. When he spoke, it was in his own guttural language.

"The time has come for your misdeeds to be punished, Raileen! Your father will have you tortured. Tortured! And I will be there to hear you scream!"

Raileen snapped open his fans. "Come then and get me! I will not go back to me father. Not ever! I will run all my life, if I must!"

The orcs swarmed down the hill. There were many more invisible to Raileen in the hollow between the hill and the one behind it. Raileen used his fans to create a swirling cloud of dust. Light as a feather, he jumped halfway up the cliff and landed on a ledge. He stared down at the orcs. Waving the fans, a jet of air shot into the Cliffside opposite him and dislodged an avalanche. The rocks poured down on the orcs and buried half of them. The other half braced themselves against the tide and fired off arrows at the elf. A heavy gust of wind thwarted their arrows from their mark. Raileen hopped off his ledge and directed a jet of air down at the remaining orcs. It blew them away in confusion.

Raileen landed on the ground and closed his fans. He tucked them into his wide sleeves.

"Cool!" Ellhamier said.

"Sshhh, he might hear you!" Jaiz hissed.

Raileen's ears pricked up. He spun around, directing a heavy blast if air at the cliff. The air dislodged rocks all up the cliff. The ground under Thranduil and his companions fell away into chunks of earth.

"Yaaah! Ellhamier, you idiot!" Jaiz cried, flailing in empty air.

Ellhamier made some abrupt movements and the falling earth solidified, melding back into the cliff side. Thranduil, Ciran, and Ellhamier landed on it safely. But Jaiz continued to fall.

"Okay, okay! Sorry I said that!" Jaiz shrieked.

Ellhamier smirked. A plate of earth flew out of the cliff, forming a ledge for Jaiz to land on.

"Who are you?" Raileen demanded, snapping open his fans.

"Resisters of Sauron, just like you," Thranduil declared, creating a ball of flame in one hand. "We are benders, just like you. May we talk civilly, as friends?"

A jet of air carried Raileen from his perch to Thranduil's. He landed lightly and slowly closed his fans. He looked hesitantly at Thranduil and his companions with suspicious dark eyes. Then he turned and gave his hand to Jaiz, who had climbed back up the cliff to his friends.

"Jerk," Jaiz muttered, eying Ellhamier.

The ground under Jaiz's feet began to crumble again. Ellhamier curled his fingers inward, causing the earth to weaken even more.

"Enough, Ellhamier," Thranduil warned, putting a hand on the elfling's shoulder.

Ellhamier took a deep breath and relaxed. "Sorry. I get angry sometimes. I-I was teased many times in the mines and hurt for answering back. I know Jaiz is not intentionally trying to hurt me but it reminds me painfully of old incidents."

"I will try not to tease you so much," Jaiz said apologetically. He looked curiously at Raileen. "You bend air?"

Raileen nodded. "What do you bend?"

Jaiz unsheathed his sword in a flash. "This!"

Raileen stepped away with a start.

Ellhamier dislodged the earth he and his companions stood on and guided it down to the ground. The solid rock came down to the ground with a heavy thump.

"Where do you come from?" Ciran asked Raileen.

Raileen hesitated. "Barad-dur."

"Were you one of Sauron's slaves?" Ellhamier asked sympathetically.

Raileen hesitated again. "Not—not quite. I-I am Sauron's son." He instinctively took a step back.

"Sauron's son!" Ellhamier exclaimed. "You murdering, monstrous beast! How many innocent people have you killed? How many families have you destroyed? How many lives have you ruined? How many slaves have you had executed because of your bloody thirsty whims? Answer me, son of a hellspawn!"

"Ellhamier, calm down!" Ciran said, grabbing Ellhamier by the arm to prevent him from attacking Raileen.

"I will not calm down! Because of him, I suffered in a mine for twenty-five years! He deserves to die!"

"Ellhamier! You do not know that. Do not be so free to lay blame! Have you already forgotten what Raileen was doing when we arrived?"

Ellhamier gritted his teeth. "He was killing orcs. So what?"

"I will tell you what," Ciran said. "We will listen to Raileen's story. Afterwards, if you still want to kill him, you can."

Ellhamier glared at Raileen. "Deal." He shook Ciran off and folded his arms. Raileen's hands tightened on his fans.

Raileen hesitated. "Perhaps I should just go?"

"Nonsense. Ellhamier will come to his senses," Ciran said.

"I ran away from home," Raileen said.

Ellhamier frowned. "You did? Why?"

Tears sprang into Raileen's eyes. "If you lived as a slave then you know what a cruel master Sauron is. Imagine what kind of father he would be!"

Ellhamier winced.

Raileen went on. "Sauron kills all benders. He considers them one of his greatest threats. My life has been very hard. I have lived in fear of my father, hiding my gifts for fear of being killed! I practiced in secret. But sometimes my mother found me. The price she required for her silence was—was unspeakably horrible! The things she made me do are only meant for husband and wife. When my gift was powerful enough, I ran. I was hunted by orcs all the while I fled from Mordor, hoping for a better world outside. Sauron knows I am a bender. All he wants now is to see me dead!"

Ellhamier softened. "I am sorry. I overreacted. I know how much pain you must be in. The world is much better outside of Mordor."

Raileen nodded. "I am sure it is. But wherever I go, I will bring danger to those around me. My father will stop at nothing to have me killed. All I can do is hide."

"You could come with us," Thranduil offered.

"Where are you going?"

"Right into Mordor," Thranduil answered.

Raileen's eyes widened. "But you are benders. Sauron will send hordes of orcs to slay you."

"And that is what we want," Thranduil said. "We are trying to postpone Sauron's progression so that elves and men have the time to form and alliance and defeat him when he attacks. We will make it known to Sauron that we are benders. When he sends his hordes of orcs to kill us, we will kill them, thus lowering the numbers of his armies. If Sauron keeps sending orcs after us, his army will only grow smaller and smaller. What better way to delay his attack then to diminish his army and force him to focus on us?"

"Excuse me, but there are only four of us," Ellhamier broke in. "Forgive me if I say it sounds like suicide to march right into Mordor and practically yell "Hey, Sauron, come kill us!"

"Five of us," Raileen said. "There are five of us. I want to help."

"Great, so now there are five of us. One person more is not going to save us," Ellhamier said with a shrug.

"You can leave any time," Thranduil offered. "No one is obligated to undertake the mission of slowing Sauron's progression."

Ellhamier growled, kicking the ground. A crater appeared a few feet away with a rumble. "There are five of us. Sure we can take out a small army combined. But if Sauron sends bigger forces to kill us, all we can do is hope for a quick death. We something more."

"We need the secret to legendary fighting," Jaiz said eagerly. "We need the Tower of Guarded Secrets! If we know the secret to legendary fighting, we might stand a chance even against a huge army!"

Ciran frowned. "Jaiz, I told you that is just a myth."

"But what if it is not, ada?" Jaiz said, his eyes shining. "Just try to believe it for one minute. What if the Tower really exists? What if there is a secret to legendary fighting? What if we can learn it and become gods? What if we can save Middle Earth by learning that secret? Thranduil even said some tales suggest the Tower is real!"

"If it is the only way the accomplish our mission, then I agree to search for the Tower," Ciran said reluctantly. "I hate you, Thranduil. See what you have done? You have filled his head with vain hopes!"

"You were right, muinda!" Jaiz exclaimed, hugging Thranduil. "I am going to live my dream! Where do we start looking?"

Thranduil closed his eyes and sorted through his memory library. "Some of the great historians and philosophers suggest the location of the Tower is hidden in its name. Others say it is at the exact center of Middle Earth. And yet more still are convinced the Tower is hidden in plain sight."

"None of that helps us," Ellhamier grumbled.

"Let us make a list of all the old towers in Middle Earth," Ciran suggested. "The Tower of Guarded Secrets is said to have existed since the beginning of time."

"It will take us ages to examine every old tower," Ellhamier said in exasperation.

"You are the valar deciding where to build the Tower of Guarded Secrets in which you will preserve all your knowledge for all time," Jaiz said. "Middle Earth is empty and uninhabited at the time but you know it will soon be filled with life. You need an impenetrable location to create such a Tower, where greedy people cannot use your godly knowledge for evil. Where would you choose to build the Tower?"

Everyone looked at Thranduil.

"You are the learned one," Ciran said. "Where would you build the Tower so that greed and evil could not touch it?"

Thranduil sat down on a flat rock and thought. Book pages, maps, and words floated through his head. With a sinking heart, Thranduil realized he did indeed know where the Tower of Guarded Secrets was. It was the only place in Middle Earth where it could have remained undiscovered for so long. With dismay, he looked at his companions.

"I know where the Tower is," he said. "But we will never enter it. It is truly impenetrable."

"Why? Is it under the sea?" Jaiz demanded anxiously.

"No," said Thranduil. "It is right in the lava filled depths of Mount Doom, where Sauron forged the One Ring."


	10. Surprises

This was grim news indeed.

"Well, we still have to try to get in," Jaiz said in a disheartened voice. "We are benders. Perhaps we can succeed where all others have failed with our special talents."

"Or perish," Ciran said.

Jaiz could tell Ciran was ready to give up. "But, ada, we could die facing hordes of orcs to. We have to try! We cannot just give up! What kind of warriors are we if we just give up? We can do this!"

"Your determination impresses me," Raileen said.

Ciran twisted a lock of hair around one finger. "We will try, Jaiz. We will just try."

Jaiz looked hopefully at Thranduil.

"The ultimate challenge," Thranduil said. "If we succeed in entering the Tower, we will deserve the secret to legendary fighting. I am with you."

Ellhamier kicked a boulder into the cliff side. "I guess I am coming with you. We all know you will not make it two feet without me there!" He smirked.

"We will cross over the Mountains of Shadow and head for Orodruin," Ciran said. "Sauron's armies will be everywhere."

"We could travel underground under the armies," Ellhamier said. "I could earth bend a tunnel. But I would only be able to keep it up for so long before I got tired."

"We can do that if things get desperate," Thranduil said. "If we are going to attack Sauron, we are going to need a good group name. Any ideas?"

"I know an old tale Sauron despises and fears," Raileen said. "The tale tells of five great warriors who once roamed this land, helping people. They promised to come back when the world needed them. They are called the Five Masters."

"It is not such a good name," Jaiz said with disappointment. "But as long as it strikes fear into Sauron's wicked heart, I am happy."

Thranduil used jets of fire to propel himself to the top of the cliff. He unsaddled the horses and set them free. He looked sadly at Flyfire. "Sorry, mellon-nin, but you cannot come with me on this journey. I must go on foot. You go on back to Greenwood the Great and deliver this letter to my father." Thranduil tied the scroll to the moose's antlers. Flyfire turned and galloped away. he grabbed all the equipment they would need and fire-jetted himself back down to his companions.

Once prepared, the Five Masters set off across the Mountains of Shadow on their mission.

* * *

Oropher reread the letter in utter disbelief. Sivagami leaned over his shoulder.

 _Dear ada and nana,_

 _I am enjoying my freedom more then can be expressed on a mere bit of paper. I have discovered a gift that allows me to control the very unpredictable depths of fire itself. The aliveness I feel is beyond words. I have met four people whose lives are now a part of mine. Their names are Ciran, Jaiz, Ellhamier, and Raileen. We are benders of the four elements and of the sword. Together we have made it our mission to end Sauron or at least help with his demise._

 _I miss you both more then you know. I wish you could be as happy as me. I wish also that you had been freer with your allowances and allowed me my freedom as your son. But, as that cannot be so, I only hope you will welcome me when I decide to come home._

 _I completed your last task, ada, and set my own heart at rest by doing so. I can now ride the moose of my homeland._

 _I wish you both much happiness._

 _Your loving ion_

 _Thranduil_

"The fool!" Oropher exclaimed. "He will get himself killed."

Sivagami smiled. "Not to worry, meleth. I bear another child to replace Thranduil should he die. You will not be heirless. And it seems Thranduil has inherited the fire after all."

"Indeed!" Oropher said bitterly. "He inherited it from you. You were born on a day when the heavens were aligned in the fire symbol. I had hoped he would not come into it."

"Hir nin, captain Damien requests an immediate audience with you," said a servant with a bow. "He has just returned from Minas Tirith."

Oropher settled back in his throne. "Bid him enter."

Captain Damien advanced to the throne and bowed to one knee. "Hir nin, I was unable to find your son, as I was sent to do. But I bought this from an elf named Elithial for four thousand gold." He presented a small package.

Oropher tore it open and gasped. Lying on the wrapping was Thranduil's diamond bracelet. Alas that his son would have to sell his jewelry to survive!

"Hannon le, Captain," Oropher said, steeling his voice. "Your money will be repaid with all due course. You are dismissed."

Captain Damien departed.

"Poor Thranduil," Sivagami said. "Having to sell his jewelry to survive. Shattering."

Oropher contemplated the bracelet he held. After a minute he sighed. "I will keep this and hope that one day my son returns home alive."

Oropher's anger at Thranduil's departure had lessened, replaced now by grief. He missed his son more then he had ever imagined he would.

"Oooh, I can feel the elfling kicking," Sivagami said, placing a hand on her round, protruding stomach.

Oropher smiled, tearing his thoughts from Thranduil. "Our elfling aches to see the world."

"It will be time for that soon enough," Sivagami said quietly as she walked back to her chambers with an odd smile on her lips.

Oropher slumped back in his throne, sliding the diamond bracelet onto his wrist. He sat and thought. Sivagami wanted to name their elfling Celebrain, if it was a girl. But if it was a boy, he wanted to name him Legolas.


	11. Tears

Raileen shivered. He did not relish the thought of going back into the heart of Mordor from whence he had come. But if it was the only way to save Middle Earth and do the right thing, he would do it. He was sitting on a high ledge, keeping watch over his sleeping companions. The wind ruffled his hair. A hand landed on his shoulder. Raileen spun around.

"It is just me," Thranduil said.

"I did not hear you come up," Raileen faltered. He steadied his panicked breathing. Too many times had people snuck up on him with disastrous results.

"Are you feeling all right?" Thranduil asked, seeing Raileen's face go pale.

"Some-sometimes I remember what my mother did to me . . . what my father d-did to me. I-I can n-never s-seem to f-forget." Raileen stammered. He felt so ashamed and low. He could not even look at Thranduil.

Thranduil unpinned his heavy black cloak and draped it around Raileen's shoulders. Raileen clutched it to him, burying himself in the warm folds. Thranduil sat down beside him. Neither of them spoke for a long while. Only Raileen's muffled sobs could be heard. Finally Raileen raised his head. Tears were still sliding down his cheeks. He looked at Thranduil and flushed.

"I am your friend, Raileen," Thranduil said kindly.

"How can you stand to be my friend after all the sick things I have been forced to do? I lived in a home where no one was my friend! I was alone. Alone!"

"You are not alone anymore," Thranduil said.

Raileen swallowed. "I know. But I am not used to knowing I can trust another person. It may take me some time to get used to—to the wonders of friendship."

Thranduil smiled. "You take your time. Go get some sleep."

Raileen yawned. He was tired. He stood up and floated himself down to the campsite. He flopped down by the small fire, curled up under Thranduil's warm cloak, and went to sleep.

Up on the ledge, Thranduil smiled to himself. It would take Raileen some time to recover from his trauma, but he would make it.


	12. Journey

The Five Masters set out again the next morning. Mordor was a land full of evil and dread. The air hung heavy and thick. Foul beasts roamed, looking for prey to messily devour. The path to Orodruin led right through the camps where Sauron's thousands of orcs were stationed, awaiting the order to invade the lands outside of Mordor.

Thranduil was climbing through the rocks with vigor. He was drenched in sweat and he was panting but the fires in him kept him going. There was no other way to travel; using jets of fire would attract too much attention. Ciran and Jaiz were panting behind him. Raileen was hoping lightly from rock to rock. Ellhamier calmly shoved boulders out of his way. The rocks fell back into place behind him to mask any traces of passing.

Thranduil finally stopped to catch his breath. He leaned against a rock and gulped air into his burning lungs. Ciran and Jaiz were wheezing to. Ellhamier and Raileen stood off to one side, looking bored and dispassionate.

"I am ready to walk behind Ellhamier on nice, even ground," Jaiz moaned.

Ellhamier grinned. "I have no idea what took you so long to ask! Whew! You three stink!"

Ciran water-bended the sweat off him, Thranduil, and Jaiz. Ellhamier wrinkled his nose. "Yech. I would hate to be on the receiving end of that!"

The Five Masters traveled onwards easily through the tunnels and over the smooth ground Ellhamier created. Ellhamier shoved the tunnel forward as it closed behind them. The earth shuddered and broke apart, opening right into the middle of an orc camp! About five hundred orcs turned away from their activities to look at them.

Ellhamier grinned. "Um, hi. Sorry for crashing in on your party." He moved to close the tunnel but orcs were already filling the space with an endless stream of armored bodies behind them.

"Three cheers for Ellhamier," Jaiz said sarcastically, clapping with fake enthusiasm.

Ellhamier frowned. Thranduil jumped past him, building up a raging wall of fire. With a forward shove of one slender hand, he sent the fire shooting down the tunnel. Jaiz slaughtered the few orcs who survived the fire but more already crowded into the small tunnel, their cries and yells echoing unpleasantly. Ellhamier could not close the tunnel; too many stampeding bodies blocked the flow of the earth.

Ciran needed water. And he knew just where to acquire the liquid. He held out his hands, calling from the bodies of the orcs their sweat. The liquid smelt foul, being a sickening black color. Ciran shaped the liquid into a whip. He swung it at the orcs, freezing it midair and separating the ice into a million shards. The ice spears rained down on the orcs filling the tunnel, downing half the front line. The fallen were trampled underfoot as the next line rushed forward. Ciran recalled the ice from the dead bodies, melting it back into liquid. With smooth movements of his entire body, Ciran formed the liquid into a wall that blocked the tunnel between him and the orcs and froze it. Ellhamier closed off the tunnel with a rumble, plunging everyone into darkness.

Thranduil brought to life a flame on his hand. The orange light filled the small space, flickering eerily. The Five Masters looked at each other inquiringly.

"Fighting a horde of orcs in a tunnel is not for me," Ellhamier declared. "I have no maneuverability space."

"Agreed. I need open air to use my bending," Raileen agreed with a nod of his head.

"Let us return to the surface and finish this," Jaiz said. He turned to Ciran with a grimace, "Ugh, ada, what you did back there grossed me out! I would hate to be on the receiving end of that!"

"Somehow I doubt the orcs were phased by it," Ciran replied with a twinkle in his eyes.

Ellhamier propelled the earth upwards, opening a tunnel to clear air. The tunnel closed behind them, depositing the Five Masters in open air, right in the center of the orc camp.

"Perhaps a more strategic location next time?" Jaiz suggested in annoyance, glaring at Ellhamier.

The Five Masters pressed themselves into a circle, shoulder to shoulder, as the orcs rushed to surround them on all sides. The circle of darkness and evil spread out around them for a considerable distance. The first spears thrust forward on all sides.

Ellhamier raised a wall of earth to meet the spears on his side of the circle, and then shoved it forward, where it rolled over about two- dozen orcs. Thranduil brought to life a wall of fire on his side that melted and burned through the orc spears before it rushed on into the orcs, burning furiously. Raileen created a tornado by spinning his hands together. The tornado sucked up orcs, ripped them apart, and spat their shattered bodies out the top of its funnel. Jaiz protected his immobile father. Ciran stood still, concentrating deeply, oblivious to the events around him. His arms strained to lift an invisible weight, his fingers curled into fists, and he fought against something only he could see.

Thranduil clapped his hands together, creating a wide jet of fire. He directed it into the midst of the orcs on his side and the flames exploded against solid bodies. Thranduil all his force into the fire until it grew so large, all he could see were the curling flames and the black smoke rising from charred bodies. The fire spread out as he willed it, slicing a huge hole in the advancing wall of orcs.

Ellhamier slammed his feet into the earth, spreading his arms apart, causing the earth to tremble and split open. As it did so, Ciran's muscles relaxed. His eyes opened and he raised his arms. Out of the crack in the earth Ellhamier had created rushed forth a tidal wave of water. Ciran guided the water up, and then let it go. The water came crashing down, curling in over itself as it came roaring down toward the ground. A dark shadow fell before it; the shadow of approaching doom.

Raileen jumped forward, the tornado dissipating behind him as he created a whirling ball of air around the Five Masters that repelled the water as it cake crashing down all around them. The water hit the ground, spreading out with a rush, drowning almost all the orcs before soaking back into the earth and trickling back into the underground river from whence it came.

Raileen let the whirling air ball fade. Jaiz kill the last few orcs and surveyed the elementally ravaged field.

"We must keep moving," Thranduil said, coming to stand behind Jaiz. "The destruction we have wrought will answer the questions of those who come to investigate."

The Five Masters journeyed onwards.

* * *

 **You made it this far! I would love to hear your thoughts and/or suggestions.  
**


	13. The Tower of Guarded Secrets

"Mount Doom," Raileen breathed, crouching behind the mound of earth Ellhamier had erected to give them some cover from prying eyes.

The volcano hissed steam from the top of its wide mouth as lava erupted, flying high into the dark sky before it rained down. Boiling red liquid overflowed from the volcano, running down its sides. The sky lay dark behind the red glow of the volcano and the surrounding rocky terrain lay in shadow.

"This is the worst time to be here," Jaiz groaned. "The volcano is active. How will we ever get in?"

Thranduil waved his hand in the air, concentrating on the lava. To his surprise, the lava parted, the fire within is subject to his strong will.

"Stay behind me," Thranduil said. He stepped out from behind the mound of earth and ran toward the slop of the volcano. The lava ran around his feet as he parted it, creating safe ground for him and his companions to walk on. The Five Masters charged up the hills and inclinations, running up the slopes that led to the telltale door in the base of Mount Doom. As they neared the door, the red glow became visible and the air grew hot. Sweat ran down the five elven faces. Thranduil parted the last flow of lava as he reached the door and entered. Once inside the volcano, the short ledge stretched out over the bubbling lava beneath, running along the top of the rock of the volcano. Thranduil had difficulty breathing the hot air. Lava leapt up all around the ledge, held back from converging in on the Five Masters by Thranduil's bending. Under the entire body of thick, hot, deadly lava rested the Tower of Guarded Secrets.

Jaiz peered down off the ledge. "Valar, give us a sign! Tell us what to do!"

"The valar are unlikely to help us," Ellhamier said drily. "After all, this is their Tower and they put it here to hide it from the world."

Thranduil started bending the lava aside, creating a path through the molten rock below them. Ciran joined him, finding he could bend the lava as though it were water. Ellhamier moved the molten rock within the lava and Raileen kept a tunnel of air blowing down the path Thranduil, Ciran, and Ellhamier cleared. The lava moved, parting to the groans of its combined masters, until a path lay cleared far below the ledge. The path ended at the tip of a tower of black stone. There were four windows in the top of the Tower that somehow refused the lava admittance.

"Jaiz!" Thranduil yelled, turning his head to look at his nephew while his hands kept back the lava. "Enter the Tower! Learn the secret! Go! We cannot come with you; we must put all our strength into keeping the lava at bay. Be quick'; the lava is strong and we can hold it only so long."

"I need a rope to reach the path below!" Jaiz yelled, looking down off the ledge at the lava-free path far below him.

"Cut off my hair and use it for your rope!" Thranduil cried.

"But—" Jaiz objected.

"Do it! Every minute you argue with me is one minute less you have in the Tower!"

Jaiz gave in. he drew his sword and sliced off Thranduil's braid, leaving behind only two feet of hair that unbraided itself and hung down Thranduil's back. He knotted the thick braid in his hands at the top to secure the loose tresses where he had cut it from Thranduil's hair and lassoed it over a rock. He dropped the braid down the ledge, relieved to see it hung down long enough for him to slid down and reach the path below. He slipped down the silky smooth hair and ran for the Tower window, the blood boiling in his veins. Jaiz hurled himself at the Tower window as he neared it, curling his body into a dive. The window admitted him and Jaiz landed lightly on his one hand and his knees on the cool stone floor of the Tower's interior.

Jaiz straightened up. The room he stood in existed at the top of the Tower of Guarded Secrets. The room lay empty before him save for a huge, double faced mirror in a gilt frame that stood in the middle of the cool room on a stand of stone carved to represent dragons coiled around its base. The dragonheads met on either side of the base of the mirror, holding it in place.

Jaiz circled the mirror, feeling as though the mirror had some significance. Fancy lettering caught his eye on the curve of the base between the dragon tails. He leaned down and blew the dust away, tracing the letters with his finger: _The secret to becoming a great warrior stands here._

Jaiz started up with a mixture of shock and eagerness. His reflection stared back at him from the mirror. It as some kind of miserable joke! Where was the secret? Jaiz gazed angrily at his indignant reflection and slowly he came to understand that no secret existed. There was just him. As long as he believed in himself, he could do anything. Jaiz smiled at his own stupidity.

After a last look at himself in the mirror (Valar, he looked terribly dirty) he crossed the room to the door he spotted in the wall and exited the room to explore the Tower. He followed a winding staircase down in spirals, passing many doors. At the bottom of the stairs, Jaiz passed underneath a tall archway carved into the shape of a serpent. He entered a huge library, the room filled with shelves of books and manuscripts. The silence echoed and the room stood alone in loneliness. Jaiz stood in the archway and looked in.

An elf spoke at his side and Jaiz screamed, spinning around, his hand on the hilt of his sword. The elf had long, silver hair and a face like a mask. His blue eyes were ageless. Jaiz stared at him suspiciously, his hand still on his sword hilt.

"Welcome," said the elf in an impassive voice. "It has been a long time indeed since I have been blessed with any visitors. I am the librarian, Nairar, enslaved son of the valar to look after this Tower for eternity."

"Humph! The valar must have been cruel parents, in that case!" Jaiz said, relaxing slightly.

Nairar blinked. "What is it you wish to know? I can introduce you to the past, the present, or . . . the future."

"How is that possible?" Jaiz asked. "You can show me my future? How?"

"The Tower was created by the valar to preserve all their knowledge. When the valar came into this world, they created a rift in the circle of time. This Tower exists at the beginning of life and at the end of everything. Therefore everything that will happen in this world has already been recorded here. To you the recorded events after your time would be the future. Chose wisely what you wish to learn for you are given only one choice."

"So you knew I would come here," Jaiz said in delight.

Nairar paused for the first time. "No, I did not. You seem to have been left out of the recordings."

Jaiz frowned in annoyance. "Oh, so the valar considered me to be of too little importance to add me to their books? What a bunch of rotter's!"

"Do not insult the gods," Nairar said sternly.

"I should like to see the future," Jaiz said evasively. "Specifically, I should like to see the events that unfold after Sauron attacks Middle Earth for the second time."

Nairar led the way through the library, past the great shelves of books. He glided under another great archway and entered a big room. By a pool of water in a raised bed of rocks he stopped. He gestured to the rippling water. "Come to the water, Jaiz. Come to the water and tell it to show you what you desire to see. Then sit back and watch the future unfold before you."

"Have you consulted your future?" Jaiz asked.

"Always it is the same," Nairar said sadly. "I live here to no end while those who bore me laugh."

Jaiz cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I share your grief."

Nairar blinked.

Jaiz took a deep breath and approached the water. He stared down into the blue liquid, voicing his wants in his mind. The water swirled, forming images at its bottom. Orcs attacking. So many orcs. Sauron rising. An alliance formed between elves and men. Death. Death. Death. So much death! Gil-Galad dead and Elendil dead—dead! Jaiz's eyes riveted to the person he saw in shock. The sword plunged into the elf's chest, causing Jaiz to jerk back to reality. He had to return to his companions! He had to tell them! How long had he been standing here watching the future unfold? What if ada and the others had not been able to hold the lava back all the while he had been inside the Tower? What if he . . . was trapped?

* * *

 **I thank deeply all of you who are taking the time to read my work. I appreciate it very much. So, thank you.  
**


	14. A Difficult Task

Jaiz thanked Nairar for his help before he ran for the spiral staircase and started up in a panic. He ran blindly, the stairs flashing by underneath his feet. He skidded to a halt in the Tower room, nearly colliding with the mirror. He crossed to the window. The path looked narrower then he remembered and lava fought to cover it. His friends could not hold the lava back much longer. Jaiz jumped from the Tower window and landed on the path. He ran, the lava rolling over the earth behind him, chasing at his heels. The great wave of lava built up, bearing down on Jaiz, a terrifying wall of fire and heat. Desperately Jaiz jumped as the last bit of empty earth disappeared beneath lava. He strained forward, the lava bubbling beneath him, and grabbed the rope of hair. He climbed frantically, the lava devouring the hair as he climbed. Jaiz grabbed Thranduil's outstretched hand and rolled onto his back on the ledge. The lava roared around him, closing over the tip of the ledge. The volcano began to shake.

"Run!" Ellhamier yelled, spinning away from the tip of the ledge.

The Five Masters ran, bursting out of the volcano as it erupted in their wake. Around the base of the volcano orcs had gathered, leaving no where to go but right onto the leveled orc spears for lava poured down the volcano's sides, rushing toward the Five Masters.

"Everyone hold hands!" Raileen shouted, grabbing Jaiz and Ellhamier's hands. "Hold on tight and pray to the valar this works or we are surely dead."

Raileen created a powerful gust of wind. It lifted everyone off their feet and sent them flying. The wind carried them far but not far enough to allow them to escape the orcs. A ravine ran around the base of the volcano. Lava flowed into the ravine and flowed away into an underground stream of lava. On the other side of the ravine, were the orcs.

Ellhamier punched a round hole into the ground and shoved Jaiz into it. Jaiz disappeared into the earth as Ellhamier said, "Quickly; everybody climb in before the lava catches up with us!"

Thranduil glanced over his shoulder, seeing the lava rolling down the slope toward them. He jumped into the hole. Ellhamier slid down into the hole last, closing the earth over his head with a clap of his hands. He formed a tunnel ahead of himself but the earth shook and spilt behind him, allowing a stream of lava to break through!

Ellhamier fled, earth-bending a tunnel as fast as he could. He closed it behind his companions as they ran, but the lava broke through the earth, splashing against the walls of the tunnel as it chased the Five Masters. Ellhamier skidded to a halt as the earth broke away to reveal daylight. He stood at the edge of the ravine, lava dripping down the walls to his left and right. Below him, the river of lava snaked around the ravine's curve. Opposite him, the second wall of the ravine rose up. At its top, orcs crowded the land.

Thranduil took in the situation. He turned to face the onrush of approaching lava. He held out his hands and shoved the lava back, holding it on one spot.

"I will hold the lava back as long as I must," Thranduil said, gritting his teeth as the lava boiled, trying to break his will. "All of you must reach safety. Go now!"

"You cannot sacrifice yourself for us!" Ciran shouted, hot air blowing his hair back.

"It is my choice!" Thranduil cried. "Please leave me! I would rather die knowing you live."

Ciran bit his lip. He looked over his shoulder. Raileen created a gust of wind to carry Ellhamier and Jaiz over the ravine. They landed among the orcs, battling against the hordes of monsters. Raileen grabbed Ciran's arm.

Ciran jerked away from Raileen. "No. You must help Ellhamier and Jaiz before death claims them. Thranduil and I will join you."

Raileen searched Ciran's determined face, and nodded. He walked to the end of the tunnel and skied over the air to join Ellhamier and Jaiz on the opposite side.

Thranduil's shoulders trembled and he groaned. "Ciran, you are not helping me. Why do you refuse to leave?"

"Because you are my brother, for Valar's sake, and I love you!" Ciran said. With quick, liquid movements, he summoned the water from the earth. The water came after much effort, its amount miniscule because of the hot environment. Ciran sent the tidal wave of water crashing against the lave as Thranduil stumbled back, his arms over his face. The water caused the lava to harden and cool, forming a thick shell between the boiling lava behind it and Thranduil. Ciran snatched Thranduil's hand as the shell cracked, and ran, jumping out of the tunnel as lava exploded behind him. Raileen turned from fending off orcs, creating a pillow of air. It caught the brothers and set them down beside Raileen.

"Run!" Thranduil yelled, knowing the orcs around them were too many for them to defeat.

The Five Masters fled, plowing through the orcs ahead of them. The orcs followed after them, a wave of blackness and death.

"What is the secret to ultimate power, Jaiz?" Ellhamier called. "I think you should tell us now. We could use some legendary power now!"

"There is no secret!" Jaiz said.

"We are dead," Ellhamier said.

"As long as you believe in yourself, you have the power to do anything under the sun!" Jaiz continued.

Ellhamier skidded to a halt. His eyes gleamed. "I intend to test your statement. It better work, or my blood will be on your hands, Jaiz!"

"Ellhamier, do not be a fool!" Raileen cried. "Run while there is still hope!"

"I think not," Ellhamier said. He raised his arms to the dark sky ad screamed, "I, Ellhamier, will raise a new chain of mountains in this foul land!"

"He has gone off his head," Jaiz said.

The ground shook. Spires and tall hills rose out of the ground before the running orcs. The ground grew in height and length, stretching and swelling, spreading out into the distance. The mountains rose until they blocked out the orcs and filled the sky.

Ellhamier drew in a deep breath. He turned around, shaking slightly, drained by the expenditure of so much power. Thranduil took his hand and walked away from the mountains.

"It will take the orcs at least a week to cross your mountains, Ellhamier," Jaiz said. "We will be out of Mordor by then. You saved us."

Ellhamier mumbled weakly before he fainted against Thranduil. Thranduil smiled as he scooped Ellhamier into his arms and continued to walk.

When night fell, sitting around a small fire in an underground cave, the Five Masters relaxed, recovering from the trials of the day. Jaiz walked in circles, his hands behind his back, his heart choking his throat. How to tell muinda? How to tell him, how to break the tragic news?

"I-I have some terrible news," Jaiz blurted, coming to an abrupt halt before Thranduil.

"What is it?"

"I-I learned of a tragedy in the Tower of Guarded Secrets—"

"Taking your own sweet time while the rest of us struggled to hold back the lava," Ellhamier said sarcastically, having recovered some of his vitality.

"The librarian told me I could see the future, if I desired it," Jaiz said bluntly.

"I cannot imagine you passing up such an opportunity," Ciran remarked with a smile.

"I accepted his offer and became so immersed in the future, I forgot about time. I saw the attack of Sauron. The good news is we give the elves enough time to make their decision, and the Last Alliance of Men and Elves is formed in time to defeat Sauron and drive him from the civilized world. Elrond, Gil-Galad, and Elendil march to battle Sauron. Oropher refuses to partake but ends up joining the war against Sauron anyway. The bad news is Elendil and Gil-Galad perish but Sauron is defeated and the One Ring lost."

"I am relieved to know the future is secure," Thranduil said simply.

Jaiz hung his head. In a small voice he said, "Oropher dies to, in a duel against Sauron. I-I am so sorry I must tell you."

Thranduil stopped chewing his lembas bread. Oropher killed seventy five years from now, in a duel against Sauron? True; he and Oropher did not exactly have a good relationship, but Oropher was his father. He loved his father as any child loved their parents. If he could save his father from a future death, he would. But how could he, when history had already been written? Thranduil's heart sank. Oropher would die. And, for all his knowledge, Thranduil could not prevent it. Fate would find some cruel way to win.

"We will defy history," Raileen said with quiet confidence. "We will save your father from death, Thranduil, if it is possible. Fate can be defied. We will re-write history. Remember, we have only to believe in ourselves and we can do anything.

Thranduil closed his eyes. He companions seemed to have no trouble accepting the secret to becoming a legend. But he found it harder to believe.

"You would do that for me?" Thranduil asked. "You would help me save my father? Why? There is nothing it in for you."

"None of us have fathers," Raileen said softly. "At least, I have one by blood but not by heart. Ellhamier's father died. Ciran never knew his father. We are elves Thranduil, we are not selfish, and you are our friend. You have helped all of us find ourselves; now it is time for us to help you."

Thranduil smiled. "Hannon le. We will re-write history; we will defy our written fates and follow our own paths! No records can rule our lives, and no god can control our fates."

"Your father is in no danger for another seventy five years," Jaiz said.

"I know," Thranduil said. "And it is no use warning my father he will die; fate will find a way to win anyway. We will wait seventy five years and then save his life."

"Fine by me," Ellhamier said. "Seventy five years to have fun!"

* * *

 **Yes, this is the end but not the end. The adventure continues in Benders: Defying History. If you enjoyed Benders and you wish to see how Thranduil and his companions attempt to change history, check it out!  
**


	15. Thank You

**Earthdragon: Thank you for reading and taking the time to review. I appreciate your comments very much.**

 **Concerning Messenger777: I know I wasted my breath but I decided to give it a shot anyway.**

 **I kind of modified the world to fit my own needs, so some things are not completely accurate. But having the elves live in Fangorn forest is a great idea I may use later!  
**

 **Thank you to everyone who took the time to read Benders. I am very grateful.**

 **A special thank you to Erelil Morningstar for reading and reviewing every chapter. Thank you so much. I am happy you liked the story.**


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